Pictures

your memory is fading
like the ache in my chest,
so sharp and clear
in the present

your face is a blur in my mind
the way your deep eyes sloped downward
in a submissive dip
like the corners of your mouth
held in a closed smile,
inverted

fluttering against my cheek
a rejection
a reaction
a futile attempt at
breaking the laws
of physics

the feel of your skin
the breadth of your chest
the set of your lips
the smell of your neck
the bend of your nose
the the contortion of features
as i told you
i needed no time

the whispers of encouragement
the words of assurance

the pain in my hand, as you squeezed it
once we saw the red lights flash
and heard the grimace of man made machine

the depth of your voice
as you moaned your desire
and the lowered groan when i
was good

the grasp on my hips,
closer to smother

and your base desires
that mean nothing

to you

the print of red lips
on smooth, white
is still there, bright

though the pinch you have
has faded

please lie to me

please have believed my lies

i want the power
to crush you

please give it to me

eventuality

your skin was soft against my fingers
ran in silent whispers down the planes
of ribs and cartilage and muscles
and your face would peer at me between the
soft curves of my thighs
your sloping, sad eyes dark,
pupils wide with wonder
as the seeping dampness spread from
your mouth
to arrive eventually
in an uncomfortable throb
where i knew it would
end up all along.

contact

opened, forced
clenched between the teeth
eyes shut tight
you must gouge them out
i will never look again

F48.1

Slow and buzzing,
like a hive of bees.

Dull and low,
pounds and grows. 
The sights and sounds
so real?

Grab a stick,
take a swing.
Poke the swarm
into a frenzy.

But still the honey
is not tasted.
The liquid sticks
and chokes.

Still the sting
cannot be felt.
There is no inflammation.

Lights come on -
image fading from the screen.
The seats are emptied.

"Touching!
Heart breaking!"

Make a mantra,
move the mouth.

Motions followed -
make it feel.

But panic plays,
pleased from pretending.
Yes, it is broken.

The next reel
will make real.

Exit,
unaffected.